til we're grey and old
by accio-ambition
Summary: "I knew I loved you then But you'd never know 'Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go" A CS fic based off of James Arthur's song.


**a/n: so this is a little thing that I wrote based off the James Arthur song "Say You Won't Let Go." Took a few liberties toward the end, but kept it canon at the beginning.  
**

 **I**

The moment she steps forward with a fierce face of determination, his heart begins to beat faster.

"I was hoping it'd be you," he says with a smirk, infusing as much innuendo and sexual prowess as he can without earning himself a smack to the face.

The lass rolls her eyes and hold out her wrist for him to clasp the gauntlet.

"Just get on with it," she mumbles unhappily.

He's been pushing her buttons since properly introducing himself tied against a tree, but it's more entertaining than he would expect. She's feisty, this Swan girl.

He likes feisty.

Though it's a bit difficult, Killian does get his hook back and it's almost as comforting as if he were to have his hand back, he's had it so long. Emma rolls her eyes at him again when he meets her gaze.

"Don't think I'm taking my eyes off you for a second," she threatens him.

"I would despair if you did."

To be truthful, he would. This woman is a marvel to say the least. The entirety of their ascent of the beanstalk, he can feel himself scaling her emotional walls. It's a challenge – makes climbing up the beanstalk easier than he'd thought – but by the time they reach the top, Killian feels like he's had a deep, meaningful conversation with a practical stranger.

As he catches his breath and tends to her wounded hand, he likes to think she feels the same way.

The tone of her voice when the giant 20 times their size falls in front of him only add to his suspicion. They make quite the team and Killian tells her so. She heaves a sigh, rolls her eyes, and hurries down the statue and inside the beast's lair.

Killian's beginning to think that's all she can do. What a shame that would be. Surely she's got some other tricks up those leather jacket sleeves.

The giant's lair is a pirate's dream: filled to the brim with gold and other treasures. There's so much to take in, let alone carry down the beanstalk. He can't be faulted for getting distracted by the objects that could make him well-off for the next, oh, century or so.

Swan's trying to get him to focus, get the compass and descend, but this will be the only time to enjoy this sort of haul. He knows better than to take it for granted.

He's strolling through the room, passing table after table of gold. Next thing he knows, she's pulling him toward her. Emma's warm against his body and he wills himself not to react like an eager lad.

"It's about bloody time," he quips, smirking all the while.

They rock back and forth as she struggles from his grip. When she breaks free, Emma motions toward the ground. "Trip wire," she says, following the string up to the ceiling, where a convenient cage lays in wait. "Quite the security system."

A fair point, he mentally admits, but irritating her really is amusing. "That's a plausible excuse for grabbing me," he tells her. "But next time, don't stand on ceremony."

Again, she rolls her eyes – her pretty green eyes are going to roll right out of their sockets at this rate – and sighs. "Let's find the compass and go home," she says, gesturing that he proceed forward.

There really is so much to see and touch and too many places for something as small as a compass to be hiding. Another cage filled with treasure stands before him and when Swan fights his request to search the top of it, he gets frustrated and can't help but blurt out, "Try something new, darling. It's called trust."

He watches something light within her, as if Emma considers trusting him in the first place. And it's there that Killian first considers that maybe – just maybe – his walls are falling just as remarkably as hers are.

But then the giant wakes from his magical slumber and though he tries to protect her, get her to a safe place, she encounters the beast and Killian himself is buried beneath rubble. He's slowly digging himself out when a hand appears in front of his face. Swan pulls him out from under the debris and, happily laughing, he lauds her praises.

"Have you got it?" he asks.

From her jacket, Emma pulls out the compass. It's not nearly as ornate or worth half as much as the majority of the other treasures the giant has, but he supposes if it'll help him get his hands on the Crocodile, it's worth the trouble. He reaches toward it, but she quickly curls her fingers over it and places it once more in her pocket.

"Come, let's go," he tells her. Hand laid out before him, Killian watches as she hesitantly places hers atop his.

His hand grips hers tightly, but then a clang rings off the stones of the lair and she pulls away. It sobers him up quickly, reduces him from the suave lothario pirate to the scared lad whose father deemed him unworthy of raising.

"What are you doing?" he asks angrily. And then, as she continues to back away, he repeats himself. Even he can tell his voice sounds petrified. "What are you doing?"

"Hook, you're right, I can't-"

"Emma, look at me," he orders her. She complies, surprisingly enough, and Killian can see betrayal in her eyes. He tries to head off her fear, tries to earn her trust again. "Have I told you a lie?" Because that seems to be the most important thing in her mind, his ability to tell the truth.

He hasn't lied to her. He hasn't been this honest with anyone since…well, since Milah, and now this blonde, this Swan girl questions him.

"I can't take the chance that I'm wrong about you," she says softly. Before turning her back on him completely, she adds, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" he asks in disbelief. "You're sorry!"

Briefly, ever so briefly, he catches her looking back at him over her shoulder. She's too far away to see what lies in her expression, but she looked back. That has to mean something.

"Swan?" he yells after her. "Swan! SWAN!"

But she's already gone.

It's in the ten hours of contemplation that follows that Killian decides to go after her. Nobody – least of all this woman – will get to say they've bested Captain Hook.

"She will pay," he grumbles under his breath. "I'm not letting you go that easily."

 **II**

Even as he mounts the last couple of stairs, Killian knows she's not going to be too happy with him. Emma's been grumpier than usual lately, sleeping in when she can and taking naps more frequently throughout the day.

He really shouldn't disturb her.

She's still going to adore him regardless. If there's one thing his love can't say no to, it's food.

Shouldering open the bedroom door, he sets the tray in his hand carefully on their dresser before opening the blinds. Sunlight streams in, illuminating the lump of Swan beneath the blankets. Killian approaches her side of the bed and jostles her slightly.

"Happy birthday, my love," he murmurs.

Emma groans and burrows her head beneath the pillow. "It can't be morning already," comes her muffled response

"I fear that it is." He returns to the tray and takes it back in his hand, carefully walking it over to her. He waits patiently until she rubs the sleep from her eyes and looks at him.

"What's this?" she asks.

"Breakfast in bed for the birthday girl."

A wide grin spreads across her lips. "You didn't have to," she tells him, putting up little fight as she struggles to sit up.

"Aye, but I wanted to," he says. "Of all the days in the year, the occasion of my darling Swan's birth is the one I should be allowed to dote on you." He sets the tray down in front of her crossed legs, within reach despite the bulge of her growing belly. "Both of you."

She tilts her head fondly. He knew he'd be off the hook for waking her this early, no pun intended.

"You're too sweet, babe," she thanks him. Quickly surveying the spread in front of her, Emma asks, "Coffee?"

Before he can answer, a commotion strikes up in the kitchen, the clash of pots and shattering of a glass or bowl. Killian watches Emma's face fall and as she goes to stand up, he stops her.

"No, you stay in bed," he insists, hand and hook in the air. "I'll worry about the mess and take Henry to school this morning."

Hesitantly, Emma settles back into bed. "Okay," she concedes and picks up a piece of toast. "But can you send him up here before you leave?"

"Of course. With some coffee as well." The comment makes her giggle and it make him all the more pleased when he leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead.

"Love you," she mumbles through a bite of toast.

He says, "I love you, too, Swan" as he walks out the door and down the stairs.

Henry greets him with strained "Morning" while trying to put the pots that had fallen back in the cupboard. Killian rushes to help him.

"Why don't you pour your mother a cup of coffee and take it up to her?" he suggests.

"Gladly," Henry says, leaving Killian to push the stack of metal back on to the highest shelf.

"We'll head off once you come back down, so make sure you're ready."

"Alright!" the boy shouts, his shoe-clad feet already clunking up the steps.

Living with the two of them is unlike what he'd really expected. It was bumpy at first, adjusting to not only living with two other people, but to living and sleeping somewhere stationary. The _Jolly Roger_ was home for so long, and he'd grown used to the roll of the waves that lulled him to sleep that he'd begun to miss them about a month after moving in.

Killian's reveries are broken by the telltale moan of the stairs as Henry barrels down them, swinging his pack on his back and heading out the door without so much as a word. He sighs, closes the cabinet door, and shouts up to Emma, "I'll be back in a bit, Swan. Don't get into any trouble."

If she responds, he doesn't hear it, already quick on Henry's feet.

They spend the walk to school discussing the dinner they plan on making that evening – high-class grilled cheese and cupcakes decorated like onion rings, along with whatever today's craving might be – and Henry gets even more excited about giving his mother his present.

"Do you think she'll like?" he asks for at least the seventeenth time.

"Of course she will, lad," Killian reassures him, laying his arm over Henry's shoulder. "You know your mother. She'll be happy to have you within arms' reach."

He's silent for a moment before saying, "Yeah, but do you think she'll like my present?"

Laughing, Killian shakes him a bit, hoping to knock a bit of sense into the teen. "Aye, Henry. I'm excited to see her reaction too."

They reach the schoolyard just as the warning bell sounds. Henry quickly wraps an arm around Killian's waist, squeezes, and bids him farewell. Killian watches the lad run through the yard and into the building before turning back and heading home.

Home. It's still a bit foreign that home is more of a person – or persons, rather – now than it ever has been. In the last year alone, his life has changed for the better. Emma's his true love, Henry respects him, and they're all anxiously awaiting the arrival of another family member. A little girl, if his gut instinct is to be believed.

He's found the love of his life and a family with her. A home that, for hundreds of years, was so far out of reach.

It may be Swan's birthday, but Killian feels like he's the one who's been brought to life.

He reaches the front porch just as the sea breeze picks up, bringing with it obvious signs of impending cold. It's supposed to frost tonight, so he and Emma will probably spend some of the day bringing in what plants they can fit from outside. After disrobing himself of his jacket and his boots, Killian makes his way back up to their bedroom, intending to clean up the mess he's sure his love made with her breakfast.

Instead, he finds the tray neatly set up on the dresser and Emma standing up next to their bed, reaching high to stretch, sleep warmth radiating off of her in the ray of morning sunshine she's in.

They've both changed so much the longer they've know each other, but she's almost unrecognizable in the best way. Over the years, she's softened so much, from their first moments of acquaintance when she held a knife to his throat and their climb up to Anton's lair. Sure, his love is nothing if not obstinate and closed-off on occasion, but her heart is far more open to opportunity than it was.

She hasn't gotten away from him, as he'd promised himself those years ago, shackled to the stone wall. Not yet. And he has no plans of letting her go any time soon.

Sensing his presence, Emma glances over her shoulder. "What?" she asks with a chuckle. Her hand comes to rest at the curve of her stomach.

Killian shrugs. "You're gorgeous."

She shakes her head. "You have to say that," she answers.

Raising a brow, he points out, "You know when I'm lying, Swan." Slowly approaching her, Killian brushes his lips against hers. He wraps her up in his embrace and begins to sway them back and forth.

Emma giggles, sparking a warmth deep within him. "Are you trying to dance with me?" she asks.

"Aye, darling." He twirls her out and she willingly spins back into him. "Despite your gripes and grouses, you've always been quite a good dancer."

"Well, thank you," Emma chirps.

His hand in hers and his hook at the small of her back, Killian honestly can't believe his luck. That this woman would win his heart and he hers. He's thrown back to their trip to the past, when they were both unsure of what they felt and were only trying to keep Emma in existence. Not only does she exist, she's thrived and brought him along for the ride.

The quiet continues for a bit, both of them dancing to the music in their heads until, finally, Emma sighs and steps back. "I miss you," she says softly.

Her words stun him. "But I'm right here," he reminds her. He spreads his arms wide, as if making himself larger would make him more noticeable in her eyes.

Emma laughs. "I know, but this -" she gestures at her stomach - "makes you feel so far away."

"Ahh." He can see her point. When they stand together, her head no longer burrows comfortably into his neck. Their little one forces her to lean forward, and she's already uncomfortable as it is, so Emma just refrains from doing so.

To compensate and hopefully cheer his Swan up a bit, Killian replaces his hook at the small of her back and pulls her into him. This time, though, his hand moves to the side of her stomach, caressing her bump. Bending down, he presses a kiss to the top curve, then straightens up to kiss Emma soundly.

"I'm right here," he whispers against her lips. "I will always be right here, no matter how far away it seems."

Emma does her best to nuzzle into him, silently showing her appreciation. It only makes the spark in his stomach grow.

"Your beauty really does grow with each passing day," he adds absentmindedly, making her chuckle as she withdraws from his shoulder.

"Easy, tiger," she chides him. "I'm already pregnant."

Gently, Killian begins to scoot backwards, hand and hook on her hips, until he feels the edge of the bed on the back of his knees. "Then we haven't got to worry about little accidents, then, do we?"

 **III**

He wakes one morning refreshed for the first time in years. No back pain, no annoying cough, no lingering exhaustion. Just fresh air, the slight sound of crashing waves, and a bright outlook on life. It's practically a miracle.

Except something's different. Something is just…off. He fell asleep with the windows shut last night, the cold outside reminding him too much of his and Emma's adventures with Elsa. And the sunlight appears to be coming from every direction, not from the window next to her side of the bed.

But the thing that solidifies that something is wrong is when Swan walks in from the hallway. She's carrying a mug, which immediately goes crashing to the ground when she raises her gaze and her green eyes land on him.

"Emma?" he says quietly, skeptically. He sits up in bed, the covers falling to his hips.

Her hand comes up to cover her mouth. "Oh, Killian."

She hasn't changed a bit over the last two years. Her body is just as he remembers when she jumps into his arms, all the same curves and softness that were there the last time they embraced.

He must be dreaming.

"Emma, my love," he whispers. His hand winds its way into her hair – thinner than it was when they first met, but still as long and gold as it had always been. She buries her nose into the crook of his neck and he hasn't realized how much he's missed such a small movement until this moment.

"I've been waiting for you," she tells him, her voice cracking with grief. "I mean, I didn't want you to show up, but I'm so glad you're here now."

"And where exactly is here, if you don't mind me asking?"

Taking a step back but keeping her arms around his shoulders, Emma licks her lips nervously. The motion makes his mouth tip up for a second. Her shoulders come up in a shrug. "The other side?" she says uncertainly.

"Other side?" he parrots. Then the words truly sink in. "I've died?" She nods slowly. "How?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Killian focuses, furrowing his brows and looking down toward the ground. "I had dinner with Miriam," he says. "I spoke with Audrey. I read some then went to bed." He raises his eyes to hers, hoping she'll provide some sort of answer.

"It must've happened in your sleep," Emma says quietly.

The cough he thought was nothing must have been something more serious. He has to say, he's a bit disappointed. Especially during his pirate years, Killian had expected to die in a blaze of glory, fighting enemies on the _Jolly Roger_. But even after settling down with Emma, Storybrooke was hardly a safe place to live.

Emma's fingers unwind from behind his neck and brush some stray hairs away from his face. "I can't believe you're here," she tells him on a giggle.

"I'd follow you anywhere, Swan," he says with a silly smile. He cocks his head to the side and raises his eyebrow. "You should know that by now."

"It's been a while, old man," she says fondly. Her hand returns to the nape of his neck, nails scratching at the hair and skin there. It's familiar, and it makes Killian's stomach flutter. "Did I ever tell you you're such a silver fox?"

He chuckles. "The girls have said the same thing since you've been gone," he tells her. "They're just like you, you know. Ferocious and stubborn. Loving."

"I know." His brows raise in surprise and Emma laughs, a full body laugh that has her shaking against him. "You can watch them on the television," she explains. "Check in on them. Your loved ones."

"You've been watching over them?" he asks.

"Yeah. All of you," Emma admits. Her brief moment of happiness mellows out. She rests her forehead on his chest dejectedly and she breathes deeply. "I'm sorry I left you."

Thinking back to what had to be one of the worst – if not the worst – day of his life sobers Killian as well. He'd hugged his love goodbye before she left for the station. Never would he have guessed that a mere six hours later, he'd be at her side as she bled out on Main Street, a wound too poisonous to magic away her downfall. "You couldn't help it," is all he can say.

Emma gulps, the motion reverberating through his chest. "It broke me, to see you that destroyed."

"I like to believe I managed to live what was left of my life to the fullest." His hand comes to rest on the back of her head, simultaneously holding her closer and trying to calm the pressure of sadness building in chest.

"You did," she snickers. Pulling back, Emma sniffles and puts on what he thinks is supposed to be a smile, but it's a poor attempt. His hand falls from the back of her head to trace her side and land on her waist. "Henry and the girls are going to miss you."

"As I miss them already," he admits. For as long as he was alone, Killian isn't used to it anymore. No day went by when he wasn't surrounded by his stepson and or his daughters, especially after Swan's death. Sometimes, the remaining members of his crew would drop by to check in. But now he's left them without a word.

Life is cruel and unfair and all the more so once it ends in death.

His thumb comes up to tap at the dimple in her chin. Her mother's chin, passed on to Swan and down to their eldest daughter. "But I have you, lass," he reminds her. "Just as fierce and gorgeous as the day I met you."

Humming, Emma shakes her head in disbelief and adds, "All those years ago."

"Mhmm." There's a sappy grin on his face, sort of dopey, he can feel it, but he's found his love – his other and better half, if he were to be honest – on the other side after two years of separation. Jokingly, he remarks, "Didn't think you'd be stuck with me this long now, did you?"

That makes her laugh outright, bringing him closer until their bodies touch from toes to forehead. "Jones, it's been you and me since day one, no matter how much we tried to stop it."

He'd promised her forever a long time ago. Now's the time to follow through. "There is no one in any realm that I would rather spend eternity with, Swan."


End file.
